


Creamy Chicken Grape Stew with Roasted Strawberries Cooked in Blue Cheese

by LycheeCannon



Series: Dimitri X Byleth OTP [4]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Ageusia, Cooking, Derpy Byleth, Dimitri will eat anything, F/M, Fluff, No Spoilers, Wholesome Father Daughter Dynamic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 17:42:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LycheeCannon/pseuds/LycheeCannon
Summary: Byleth is quite the chef, Dimitri would agree. Not that anyone else would, though.Requests here: bbnoodles.tumblr.comTalk to me here: https://twitter.com/BbNoodles1





	Creamy Chicken Grape Stew with Roasted Strawberries Cooked in Blue Cheese

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: Canonically Dimitri has Ageusia and Anosmia, which means he can't really taste food. I decided to take that and run with it to see how far his lack of taste could go. This is inspired by the conversation Byleth has with Dedue where they talk about Dimitri not having a favorite food.  
:) Hope you enjoyed this cute short! Who knows maybe the dish that I had her make is actually good, I'd be down to try it.

Whenever the mercenary company was camped somewhere where they could not get to town easily, they relegated Jeralt to cooking duties. So, with all the manly glory of his pink flower apron with white frills, he’d stand at the stewpot for hours, stirring and seasoning to feed his not-so-young-anymore baby daughter. When she was not eating well, the world just was not right to him.

And how Byleth loved her father’s cooking. He’d grill fish in just the right way where the flesh flaked off of the bones. The soups were always simple but delicious and she’d find herself snacking on burnt bits off the bottom while cleaning the pot in the river. Sometimes, when there was extra money, he’d splurge some fresh cuts of meat so that the company could roast them with some potatoes and turnips. On extra special occasions, Jeralt would bring out herbs and spices from Almyra that they always bought from the same trader in Remire. But that was only once a year, usually on Byleth’s birthday.

Sadly, Byleth inherited none of her father’s cooking abilities—or none basically any whatsoever.

The company found this out the hard way when the girl first asked to go into battle with them, swinging a wooden stick that her father whittled into a makeshift sword. They could hardly bring a ten-year-old girl onto a battlefield so the lieutenant decided on the next best thing, teaching her to do camp chores such that when they returned, they were worrying less about the state of the campsite and more about resting and recuperating.  
But alas, Byleth was an awful cook.

When they returned after the first time, they left her in charge, the bed rolls were aired, the tents were all set up in neat little rows, the campfire was roaring and a small stack of firewood sat off to the side of it. Their usual iron stewpot hung over the fire almost daintily simmering as the occasional bubbling made the lid rattle, a sack they used for root vegetables sat nearby.

“Kid, I’m so proud of you! Looks like there was a reason I fed you all these years after all!” Jeralt ruffled her hair affectionately, “Let’s take a look at what our little lady is cooking up!” The mercenary troupe of twenty people crowded around the fire pit, eager to see what they would be eating for dinner. 

The polite way to describe what happened next would be utter carnage. 

Jeralt lifted the lid of the pot to see the head of a wild boar, all fur, bones, snout, and eyes intact staring back at him. The flesh was desiccated from boiling but not enough to break down the meat as there was at most two inches of water in the pot. It smelled rotten; it probably was rotten.

The crew recoiled at the scarring sight, one person peeling off to pat Byleth on the shoulder— “it’s ok lass! It happens to the best of us, let’s just eat whatever you’re roasting.”

She beamed at the lieutenant, pulling him by the hand over to where she’d been roasting the game meat. 

The company exchanged worried glances at each other, and promptly fought the urge the vomit when she opened the large roasting tin they usually used for potatoes. Whatever was in there closely resembled glue and was clearly made out of the pig entrails.

“Byleth where did you get the pig? We’re in Alliance territory, there is not much wildlife here that we can eat.” Jeralt asked slowly.

“Oh! I found it—some birds beat me to it and were eating it—I guess it was just sleeping – but thankfully the head and the insiders were still mostly intact. Got my clothes dirty though—those are still over by the bedrolls drying." The adorable little girl held up her hands for her father to inspect and he could see the viscera still stuck under her fingernails. “Don’t worry I washed my hands!” Her smile was too adorable for him to say anything but he promptly told her that since they had an early start the next day, she would have to go to sleep early—he promised her he’d wake her in time for breakfast.

When she asked her father where the food was the next day, he calmly explained that the soldiers liked it so much that they’d already polished it all off—he handed her some jerky and bread and promised to make it up to her. After all, she’d need her strength if he was going to start training her to come onto the battle field with the rest of the crew.

They also replaced their pot and pan in the next town.

\-----

As an adult, Byleth loved cooking.

Some of her best memories were of her father tending to a small fire, cooking up something delicious for her to eat even though he was exhausted from battle. 

Though for some reason, people insisted that she generally stay out of the kitchen, she loved the calming qualities of watching something simmer over a fire, of watching something rise in the oven. Today, no one was going to stop her.

She had gathered some of her favorite fruits and vegetables from the greenhouse, some fish from the dock, and stopped by the market for some meat and dairy. The little treasure trove of the haul sat on the kitchen counter, ready to be used. 

Into the pot went the chicken, grapes, tomatoes, fish, peppers, strawberries, and all the tea she had in her room that was in danger of spoiling—after all, if it tasted good in water, it’d taste even better on meat. She topped off the pot with a dredge of goats’ milk, cracked an egg into it to finish it of and with a flourish, put the lid on to wait for the flavors to get to know each other.  
She couldn’t wait! This was so exciting; this was an original recipe she’d been thinking about for months! 

_Creamy Chicken Grape Stew with Roasted Strawberries Cooked in Blue Cheese_

Byleth even had the entire dining hall to herself. There had been six or seven people milling around the area when she’d first set up shop but they must have seen how passionate she was and let her have the space to herself so she could focus—she made a mental note to save them all servings as a thank you.

“Professor, do you have a moment when you’re done?” Dimitri, her student walked in with a book under his arm. He was put together as usual without a single crease in his uniform. She swore that he even smelled nice, not that she was speaking from experience. Recently, speaking to him in close quarters and alone made her feel some sort of strange way in her guy. So, the usual free flowing camaraderie they usually had had been a little stunted and she felt bad that there was a distance growing between them that was entirely her fault.

“Yes! Of course!” Byleth smiled at him, he walked up to the pot and stood next to her to get a better look at what she was doing.

“What are you cooking?” He craned his neck to try to get a peek of the contents through the gap in the lid. Byleth swatted his hand away with the wooden spoon as he went for the lid.

“You’re gonna have to wait until I’m done—I’m making my new specialty.” She beamed up at him and instantly he felt the blood rush to his cheeks. On his walk into the kitchen, he could see the train of people leaving the area. Someone had stopped him to let him know that his teacher was brewing poison in the dining hall kitchen so he decided to investigate while sneaking in some alone time with her. Naturally curious and practical, he decided that the smell everyone was talking about must not be that bad. He could not smell anything amiss.

She grabbed his hand to pull him towards one of the benches so they could sit and chat while the stew finished brewing. If she noticed that even when they sat, shoulder to shoulder that he did not let go of her hand, she said nothing. 

When almost an hour had elapsed, she sniffed the air excitedly and jumped up, running over to her soup. Byleth tasted it and moaned in a way that made Dimitri choke on his glass of water. 

“This is so good!” 

She ladled out two bowls, making sure there was extra meat in his. Honestly, most of everything else she’d put into it had liquified into the soup, intensifying the flavor. 

Dimitri blew on the spoonful he had—she held her breath in trepidation—and put it in his mouth. His brows shot up.

“You’re right! This is fantastic, Professor!”

Together, they polished off two bowls each and resumed their shoulder to shoulder orientation at the washbasin to clean off the dishes.

They had the dining hall to themselves the rest of the day, and neither of them would have had it any other way. Both of them felt warm, very warm with one another. Or maybe that was just the food talking.


End file.
